


Soft Spots

by TangoSpotted (XylB)



Series: Ghost Recon PWPlands [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon
Genre: M/M, Multi, PWP, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/TangoSpotted
Summary: “You still got that gag reflex?”“Can you still get it up?”





	Soft Spots

“You haven’t done that in years.”

“So?” Midas grunts, flicking ash off the cigarette as Holt sits down beside him.

“Didn’t think you’d pick it up again,” Holt comments simply.

“I haven’t. Rebels gave us a couple after the supply raid. Might as well use them.” Midas offers the cigarette out and Holt shakes his head.

“Nah, thanks. Not about that.”  

Midas shrugs and takes another drag, blowing it out of the side of his mouth – politely away from Holt’s direction. There’s only a few more takes in it, he figures, by how close the end’s burning to his fingertips, a spike of heat in the warm, soupy air around them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Holt asks, twisting open a flask.

“Aren’t you?” Midas teases, and drops the cigarette between his feet, stubbing it out with a toe. He holds out a hand in silent request for the flask. Holt spends a couple more seconds drinking before he passes it over.

“Water?” Midas asks after a long pull, grinning a little. “You’ve changed, Dom.”

“Hey, I’ve got more flasks,” Holt jokes, taking the flask back to cap it. “Anyway, you know Coray’s got us covered for that.”

“Yeah, he’ll drink you under the table soon.”

Holt scoffs. “Please, not even you could do that.”

“Is that a challenge?” Midas teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe later, big guy,” Holt laughs, and bumps an elbow against Midas’s as silence settles between them.

The heat isn’t so brutal up here, in the thinner mountain air. A warm breeze rustles through the trees, ruffling Midas’s scarf and hair and drying the sweat on the back of his neck. It’s always in the quiet moments that he can appreciate the beauty of the country, how vivid and vibrant it is even under the stars. It’s not quite fully dark yet, but getting there, the sliver of sun casting an orange dusk over their camping spot.

“Where are the others?” Holt asks.

“Down there,” Midas replies, nodding down the path.

A moment passes.

“Well,” Holt starts, chuckles a little nervously, “wanna go back to my place?”

Midas’s lips quirk up in a smile, his gaze snapping to Holt.

“Your place?”

“Yeah, the empty guard post back there,” Holt jokes, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Midas laughs, raking his eyes over Holt again.

“Haven’t done that in a while,” he says carefully. Holt smirks and very deliberately glances down, and back up.

“So?”

“You still got that gag reflex?” Midas teases.

“Can you still get it up?”

\-- 

“Glad to see you didn’t go impotent in your old age,” Holt snickers between kisses, grinding his hips forward _filthy_ in a way that makes Midas’s head spin, a grunt escaping him as he backs them up.

“You’re only two years younger,” Midas reminds him, curling a hand around Holt’s neck to kiss down his jaw. “Don’t get too cocky.”

“Make me,” Holt bites back playfully, and Midas smirks against his skin, because as cocky as Holt can be, Midas knows _all_ his soft spots. And they work like a charm, make Holt press harder against him, his thigh in a _perfect_ position –

Holt pushes Midas back a bit, hands on his chest, and Midas hesitates a moment before he feels the edge of the cot butt against his legs. When it clicks, he chuckles against Holt’s mouth and lets go of him to drop neatly on the bed, hands braced behind him.

Holt pauses, eyes on Midas like he’s just a little stunned, and it hits Midas a little how long it’s been since he’s seen Holt like this – flushed, quieter than usual, completely fucking hard in his tact gear.

“Where d’ya wanna be?” Midas asks, raising an eyebrow. Holt’s gaze flicks over him, heated, _intense_ , and Midas twitches in his underwear at the sheer _want_ in it. Almost without thinking, he reaches down to palm himself, splaying his fingers over his erection and leaning back to give himself room.

Also to let Holt watch, but that’s a detail.

It feels _good_ to take his time, for once, trace his thumb over the faintest outline of the head and _squeeze_ – so deliberately slowly that it makes his toes curl in his boots. Holt’s inhale is dry and stuttered, his fingers flexing by his side as he considers. Midas has a pretty good guess what he’ll choose, and has no reason to need to hurry up. He keeps touching himself, lazy and indulgent, and sucks in a quiet breath at the pleasant tingle that shivers over him, his eyes fluttering closed involuntarily.

They snap open again at the sound of a dull _thud_ , and refocus on Holt, now on his knees _right_ in front of him, nudging his legs open wider to fit between them, and  _god_ , Midas missed that sight. He squeezes himself once more before withdrawing his hand and settling it on Holt’s cheek instead, thumb brushing over his lips.  

“How’d I guess?” He asks, and Holt runs his hands up Midas’s thighs.

“Shut up,” Holt retorts playfully, licking Midas’s thumb as his fingers curl around his legs.

“It’s a good look on you, Dom,” Midas purrs. Dom flushes brighter and swallows audibly, eyes still on Midas’s.

Midas cocks an eyebrow and reaches down with his other hand to unzip himself – Dom’s eyes drop to his fingers and he licks his lips, watching eagerly while Midas takes himself out. It’s a such a damn _relief_ he almost moans, giving himself a couple strokes before Dom leans in to kiss the side of the head, glancing up at the same time, and, well, Dom’s always known what he wants.

Midas holds his cock steady while Dom lays kisses down the length – slow, indulgent presses of his lips, all the way down until he meets Midas’s fingers. One of Dom’s hands appears to circle over Midas’s, smoothly replacing his grip.

“Sure you can handle it?” Midas teases, and Dom’s breath stutters over sensitive skin with his chuckle.

“I know what I’m doing, Rubio,” he assures him, squeezing at the base. Midas smirks.

“I know,” he says.

Dom’s next exhale _punches_ out of him, a visible shiver running along his shoulders as the head of Midas’s cock taps his cheek.

“Cocky motherfucker,” Dom breathes, pulling back with a slow stroke, his fingers brushing light up the underside in a teasing tickle.

“You like it,” Midas replies, settling a hand easy on Dom’s head. Dom hums and turns to kiss beside the slit, millimetres away from the bead of pre-come oozing from Midas.

Dom grins, and pokes his tongue out to deliberately lick it away – Midas groans low in his throat and twitches against Dom’s palm. His tongue drags away to run around the head; easy, confident motions that Midas recognises, sighs contentedly through his nose as Dom finally gets to work. He circles that bundle of nerves under the head with the pointed tip of his tongue, plants more wet kisses over Midas until he’s sinking down on him, slow, luxurious, letting Midas flatten his tongue to the floor of his mouth and part his lips further, spit gathering in the corners.

Midas shudders and his hand slips down to Dom’s shoulder, curling in the fabric of his shirt as Dom sucks, tilting so the head pushes his cheek out and blinking up at Midas – a tease that makes Midas’s legs twitch towards each other but he forces himself to stay calm, avoid accidentally choking Dom.

Dom pulls off like it’s a lollipop, panting quietly while he strokes over the spit-slick head, smearing it down the length. He doesn’t even pause to speak before he goes back down, and suddenly Midas is bumping the back of his throat and gasping, tugging reflexively on his shirt. Dom doesn’t slow down, though, his eyes falling closed as he bobs, a small, pleased noise muffled between them. A frisson of heat runs up Midas’s spine, hair falling into his eyes again as his other hand fists the bedsheets – it doesn’t escape Dom’s notice, either, by his quiet chuckle, and Midas counters it with a slight push, urging him farther down. Dom’s fingers stay still on his thigh, no tapping out, and Midas admires the new stretch of his lips around the thicker shaft as spit leaks out in beads, rolling down to meet the circle of Dom’s fingers.

The next time Midas bumps Dom’s throat, Dom swallows, and _continues_ , and Midas slips in with a groan, his head tipping back.

“Dom,” he gasps, legs tensing up with the hint of orgasm surging though him, greedy for more even as Dom pops him out of his throat. “Shit, Dom.”

Dom replies with a hum, pulling off for a breather with a string of spit and pre-come still connecting him to Midas. He doesn’t even wipe it away before leaning his head on Midas’s thigh and dropping his hand to press against himself, whimpering quietly when his hips buck. Midas swears again and more slick seeps out of him, thickening the string and dripping off to the floor underneath them.

“Think I can still take it all the way?” Dom asks breathlessly. Midas looks over him, his mouth swollen and voice already a little rough just from that, and wonders if Tony _really_ needs Dom talking tomorrow.

“Go ahead, Dom,” Midas says, and leans back a little more.

Dom laughs and withdraws his hand to plant it on Midas’s thigh once more – he taps twice, clearly, and Midas nods in silent acknowledgement. And then, in an easy, fluid motion, Dom leans in to sink down on Midas, sucking noisily and startling a moan out of him.

It speeds up from there, in a hotly familiar way, and Midas doesn’t even need to guide Dom anymore, bobbing fervently and going lower each time – he chokes a couple times, when Midas hits his throat, but he doesn’t tap out, just keeps going, until Midas is slipping in on every thrust and there’s tears glittering in the corners of Dom’s eyes.

“F _uck_ ,” Midas spits, stroking the back of Dom’s neck with a shaky thumb. “ _Fuck_.”

And before he can say any more, Dom sinks down the last couple inches, and his throat _spasms_ when he swallows, and heat suddenly washes over Midas’s skin in an electrifying sweep.

“Dom,  _Dom_ , gonna come,” he warns, his voice shot through with arousal, and Dom stays down for another second before he chokes loudly and pulls off – coughs, and goes right back down, flushed red and all trace of cocky gone.

Dom lets Midas fuck his throat in minute little lifts for only a few moments before he pulls back up again, moaning pathetically as he bobs, moving his hand in sweet tandem, and _that_ drags Midas over the edge with a rough groan, knees shaking and his shoulders hunchingviolentlywhenhe comes, curses slipping out breathlessly. Dom  _whines_ at it,his fingers _tight_ on Midas’s thigh – Midas shudders and bucks helplessly into Dom’s mouth, desperate for more even as he grows far too sensitive for it.

Dom stops sucking when Midas’s moan tips into a pained whimper, his fingers still trembling in Dom’s shirt and sweat plastering his shirt to him in damp patches. He doesn’t realise he’s closed his eyes until he opens them again, flicking hair out of the way to watch Dom pull off, swallowing pointedly.

Dom drops his hand to himself again but Midas grabs his shoulders before he can continue, urging him up and scooting back to manhandle Dom onto his lap, braced on shaky legs.

“Let me,” Midas pants, and knocks Dom’s hand away to roughly unzip his jeans – Dom’s hands fly to Midas’s shoulders and Midas splays a hand over hislower back just as he wraps his fingers around his cock.

“Ru – _mm_!– ” Midas cuts him off with a sloppy kiss, fervent and eager as Dom wriggles on his lap, trying to fuck up into his fist.

Dom reacts just like Midas remembers, twitchy and fidgety, chasing any touch he can get and running hot under Midas’s fingers. His hands curl into Midas’s shirt to steady himself, a whimper escaping him when his knees slip on the sheets.

Midas toys, idly, with the idea of maybe drawing it out a little for Dom.

With a smirk against his lips, he does, waiting until Dom’s leaking over his fist and rolling his hips in strong, steady thrusts – and then pulls his hand away. A whine bursts out of Dom, his entire body jerking with the sudden loss, thighs abruptly clamping to Midas’s and hips shifting forward to try and rub against Midas’s front – Midas slides his hand around to grip Dom’s hip and easily keep him in place.

“Rubio,  _Christ_ ,” Dom pants. “ _God_.”

“Mm?” Midas hums, smoothly kissing down Dom’s jaw instead, grinning at the flex of muscle when he swallows.

Dom just whimpers.

“Need something?” Midas asks, innocently.

“C’mon,” Dom mutters, but Midas doesn’t touch him. “C’mon, _fuck_.”

“Close?” Midas murmurs against his throat.

“ _Please_ ,” Dom gasps,rocking forward again, and this time Midas has mercy.

He returns to Dom’s lips as he reaches down, and starts jacking Dom off _relentlessly_ fast, until his hips are twisting up desperately into the touch and Dom’s moaning against his mouth, a little mantra of _pleas_ _e_ _please_ chanted into the kiss. One of Dom’s hands abruptly slides up to thread into Midas’s hair, ruining the rest of the ponytail and curling into the strands to deepen the kiss – Midas shivers and welcomes it, scraping his teeth against Dom’s lower lip.

Midas doesn’t stop this time, smearing pre-come down the length and squeezing on the upstroke – Dom suddenly jerks and comes with a start, fingers _tight_ in Midas’s hair and his mouth completely slack. Hot, startled little noises fall from him with each buck of his hips,Midas’s name littered among them and breathless curses spat out between them – Midas muffles some of it with his mouth, alight all over at the bare scrape of Dom’s scruff against his jaw.

When Dom gradually starts relaxing – legs not so tense, hips slowing to a halt –Midas lets go, swiping his thumb over the slit to gather up the bead of come and breaking the kiss to lick it off, humming at the taste. Dom swears quietly and rests his forehead against Midas’s temple, loosening thegrip in his hair to a gentle hold.

“Who knew you still had it in you?” Dom jokes breathlessly.

“Anyone told you your name really doesn’t suit you?” Midas quips back, and Dom laughs.

“You, all the fuckin’ time.”

A beat passes. Midas settles his hands on Dom’s waist.

“We should do this more often,” Dom pants, although there’s the faintest hitch in his roughened voice.

“We should,” Midas agrees easily, dragging his hand up and down the slouched curve of Dom’s spine. Dom shivers.

“Alice still know?”  

Midas flexes his left hand on Dom’s waist, his skin tingling with the memory of a wedding ring – stored safely with his dogtags, now, so he doesn’t lose it.

“Yeah, she’s still fine with it,” Midas replies, pressing a kiss to Dom’s jaw.

“Good,” Dom says. “’Cause she’s a good gal.”

“If you like my wife, you can just ask, Dom.”

“You make this too easy, Blondie. Where’s the class? The flirting? The  _wooing_?”

“So you want to be wooed, now?”

“I’m saying a little _romance_ would be nice.”

“For me or my wife?”

“Both of ya.” Dom pulls back to wink.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you.”

“Touché,” Midas laughs, nudging their foreheads together. Dom’s eyes crinkle at the corner with his smile.

“So, wanna stay the night?” Dom asks, barely holding back a chuckle.

“How gracious of you.”

“Hey, take it or leave it, man.”

“I think I’ll take it.”


End file.
